Training Log Archive: kissyIn the 1 days ending Apr 18, 2009:
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Saturday Apr 18, 2009 #
Event: West Point A-Meet
Orienteering 19:19 [4] *** 2.1 km (9:12 / km)
ahr:148 max:162
West Point Sprint. This was alot of fun. The beginning was pretty tricky. I made a bad route choice at #2...going high over the cliff vs. staying low on the trail. Otherwise, everything was pretty straight on. I just got tired at the end, especially running up the stairs.
Orienteering 47:19 [3] *** 3.3 km (14:20 / km)
ahr:149 max:160
West Point Middle. Can you say disaster? I was having a pretty decent run. Like many others, I had a bit of trouble on #2, where I thought the cliff was front-facing, but it was not. And then again, like many others, on the way to #8, where I forgot all about what the meet notes said about the fence, and ran right to the middle of two openings...ack. But, of course, I saved the worst to the end.
I had just punched in at the penultimate control, a boulder. All that was left was to run out to the ski slope and barrel down to the last control and in to the finish. I headed to the road/trail that cut across the slope, and jumped over a little drainage ditch beside the road. I was leading with my right leg since that is (was) my good knee and I try to protect the left one. When I landed on the other side, my right knee instantly buckled, and I went down like a bag of rocks. I knew right away what I had done, but I still tried to stand up, only to go down again. So, I did what any woman would do...I started to cry. Not only because it was extremely painful, but also because I knew what was ahead of me from past experience. Pain, hobbling around on crutches, doctor visits, pain, potential surgery, months of rehab, pain, and always having to worry/think about that knee.
Then, a woman whom I had been battling back and forth with on the course went cruising by to the finish, and then I was mad. So, I stood up and held my knee together with both hands and inched my way down to the last control (at this point, I still had the lead in my age group, according to the splits). But it took me 1:23 to make it to the finish control, with a few more bucklings along the way. So, I ended up in 2nd place.
Once I punched in, two cadets scooped me up and brought me the the first aid jeep, where the "man in black" and the medic cadets were very good at taping me up and lending me a pair of crutches, which, unfortunately, were sized for someone who was 5'10". I clumsily made it to the cars, listened to Don's ridicule for awhile, and then let mapboy bring me to the hospital. Thanks, mapboy.
I had just punched in at the penultimate control, a boulder. All that was left was to run out to the ski slope and barrel down to the last control and in to the finish. I headed to the road/trail that cut across the slope, and jumped over a little drainage ditch beside the road. I was leading with my right leg since that is (was) my good knee and I try to protect the left one. When I landed on the other side, my right knee instantly buckled, and I went down like a bag of rocks. I knew right away what I had done, but I still tried to stand up, only to go down again. So, I did what any woman would do...I started to cry. Not only because it was extremely painful, but also because I knew what was ahead of me from past experience. Pain, hobbling around on crutches, doctor visits, pain, potential surgery, months of rehab, pain, and always having to worry/think about that knee.
Then, a woman whom I had been battling back and forth with on the course went cruising by to the finish, and then I was mad. So, I stood up and held my knee together with both hands and inched my way down to the last control (at this point, I still had the lead in my age group, according to the splits). But it took me 1:23 to make it to the finish control, with a few more bucklings along the way. So, I ended up in 2nd place.
Once I punched in, two cadets scooped me up and brought me the the first aid jeep, where the "man in black" and the medic cadets were very good at taping me up and lending me a pair of crutches, which, unfortunately, were sized for someone who was 5'10". I clumsily made it to the cars, listened to Don's ridicule for awhile, and then let mapboy bring me to the hospital. Thanks, mapboy.